


Sweetheart

by SouthSideStory



Series: Sweetheart [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cousin Incest, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Incest, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:51:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthSideStory/pseuds/SouthSideStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben Solo is almost fifteen when his uncle adopts a brat of a girl named Rey. She’s thirteen-and-a-half (and won’t let him forget the half) with bitten off nails, scabby knees, and chestnut hair that she wears pulled up into three buns. Rey carries a pilot doll wherever she goes, a toy too juvenile for a kid her age, and she’s scrawny enough for it to be concerning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> I revamped this story in preparation for the sequel, Scar Tissue, which I’m working on for the Reylo Fanfiction Anthology’s Finish Your Fics event. While Sweetheart is about the damage that survivors experience, Scar Tissue will focus on the recovery process, so keep an eye out for it. And please mind the warnings.
> 
> Still giving a big thank you to ReyloTrashCompactor for her help with this story. Love you, bestie.

.

.

Ben Solo is almost fifteen when his uncle adopts a brat of a girl named Rey. She’s thirteen-and-a-half (and won’t let him forget the half) with bitten off nails, scabby knees, and chestnut hair that she wears pulled up into three buns. Rey carries a pilot doll wherever she goes, a toy too juvenile for a kid her age, and she’s scrawny enough for it to be concerning.

Uncle Luke puts beef franks on the grill while Mom sets up the mustard and hot dog buns. He and Rey sit on the porch swing, idly rocking it back and forth.

“Where’d you come from?” Ben asks, even though that’s rude and he knows it.

Rey scowls at him something fierce, then says, “Well, you see, when a man and a woman love each other very much, sometimes they screw and make a baby. So that’s where I came from, same as everybody else.”

“I’ve had ‘the talk,’ thanks,” Ben says. “Not really what I meant.”

Uncle Luke and his mother are too busy cooking to catch this conversation, and he figures that’s probably a good thing.

“I grew up in Jakku, Arizona,” Rey says. “It’s a craphole, but I’m going back whenever Luke gets tired of me.”

There’s so much wrong with that statement that Ben doesn’t know where to begin, so he only asks, “Why?”

“My family left me there—my _real_ family,” Rey says. “When they come back for me, I should be there. I’ve already been gone too long.”

Ben knows a little something about not being wanted, and he suspects that if her family was capable of or interested in finding her, they’d have done it by now.

.

.

Rey sneaks out at all hours of the day and night, sometimes to wander the neighborhood or steal things from the 7-11 at the corner of Church and Chapel, sometimes to haunt the play park or the Solo house. She seems determined to give Uncle Luke a heart attack. Or perhaps she’s just trying to get him to send her back, like mail that got delivered to a wrong address.

Tonight he wakes to a pebble striking his window. Ben ignores it, but Rey jimmies the latch and climbs inside all on her own.

He covers his face with a pillow and says into it, “I’ve gotta be up at five-thirty, you know.”

Rey crawls into his bed, rips the pillow off his face, and lies next to him. “Why so early? School doesn’t start until seven.”

“Mr. Snoke tutors me in English in the mornings,” Ben says, and he hopes it’s too dark for Rey to see how much he’s blushing.

“Oh,” she says. “Is that why you were held back last year?”

“Sort of.” Ben got into a lot of fights in the last semester of his freshman year, and he failed both English I and World History because he’s a teenager who reads like a fourth-grader. Mr. Snoke says he’s not stupid, that he’s actually very smart, but it’s going to take a lot of hard work to get his reading rate and comprehension up to where it needs to be.

Ben isn’t sure how that’s ever going to happen when they only spend half their time actually working on his English, but he doesn’t say this to Rey. She might be street wise for a fourteen-year-old kid, but he doubts she’d understand what happens in Mr. Snoke’s office.

“You really shouldn’t be in my bed,” Ben whispers. “It’s not appropriate.”

He’s a hypocrite for saying that, considering what he’s been getting up to for the last few years.

Rey snorts a laugh and snuggles closer. “Why? Aren’t we family?” she asks, voice liquid with sarcasm.

Ben plays with a lock of her hair and tries not to take comfort in her skinny body cuddled up against him. “Doesn’t matter,” he says.

“Because I’ve got a vagina?”

He rolls his eyes. Sometimes she’s so crude for a girl her age. “Yeah.”

“Like that matters much to you. Don’t you like boys too?” Rey asks, casual, like this is nothing important at all.

Ben freezes, heart pounding hard in his chest. “How’d you know that?” he asks, maybe sharper than he should, because he’s never told anyone this secret and had hoped it wasn’t obvious.

Rey shrugs. “I dunno. You kinda look at boys the same way you look at girls.”

She doesn’t seem to care even a little bit about the fact that he’s not straight, and that calms Ben, if only somewhat. “You can’t tell anybody at school,” he says. “I’d get fucking crucified for it.”

“Of course I won’t say anything.” Rey throws her arm around his waist and buries her face against his chest. “You smell good,” she whispers, and there’s something soft in her voice that he can’t quite place. “What kind of soap do you use?”

It’s pine scented. Mr. Snoke hates it, and so Ben stubbornly keeps buying more of the shit, not that it’s likely to deter his teacher. Besides, he isn’t sure he wants to deter him. Sometimes Mr. Snoke hurts him, but he also tells him he’s clever and beautiful, and he promises never to leave.

.

.

Dad visits for the first time in years, and he doesn’t seem to know what to say whenever he and Ben are in the same room. Not that it matters; there’s nothing he could say to make things right.

He has the gall to ask to stay at the house, and Mom is weak enough to let him. Ben doesn’t want anything to do with his father, though, so he steals Dad’s prized car and speeds around town, going 80 miles per hour in a 35, taking sharp curves so quickly that he’s lucky he doesn’t crash and kill himself.

What would it matter if he did? Nobody would miss him except Mr. Snoke and his mother. And maybe Rey.

He picks up a 40 from the mini-mart that doesn’t card and never closes, and he drinks it while he drives. There are no cops out, not at three o’clock in the morning in a town like Greenfield. Ben circles back to his neighborhood, but he parks out of the way, finishes his beer, takes a piss in the bushes, then walks to number 1720 and knocks on Rey’s window.

She lets him inside, frowning. Ben can’t help but notice that she’s only wearing a pair of his own boxers and a white cami he can see straight through. Rey grows prettier every day, and she’s got legs for miles and pert breasts that he’s been thinking of more than he should.

Fifteen isn’t too young. When he was fifteen he’d already been fucking for two years.

Rey hugs him, but she quickly pulls away and asks, “Have you been drinking?”

“A little. I’m buzzed but I’m not drunk,” he says, which is true enough.

She crosses her arms over her chest, like maybe she’s finally noticed how sheer her top is. “Luke says your dad came home.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Ben snaps. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“Then why are you here?” Rey asks.

Ben pulls her against him and kisses her without thinking much about it, because if he does he’ll know it’s wrong. Rey makes a startled noise that dies in the back of her throat, but she opens her mouth to him all the same. She tastes like toothpaste and sleep and needy girl, and when he cups her breast she whimpers, leans into his touch. He plucks at her nipple simply to feel it harden between his fingers. Then he slides his hand down her belly, underneath the waistband of her shorts. He waits for her to do or say something, anything, giving him permission to touch her, but Rey only trembles.

Ben kisses her jaw, bites her neck, sucks her earlobe. “I want to make you come, sweetheart. Will you let me?”

“Yeah,” Rey says, her voice quiet but eager. “Okay.”

He pulls her boxers down her legs, then pushes her against the wall and slides his hand between her thighs. Ben isn’t completely sure how this works—he’s only ever done this sort of thing with a man before—but when he finds her sex so wet and warm, he pushes a finger inside her, then another. Rey gasps and closes her eyes, starts rocking in time with his thrusting fingers.

Ben kisses her temple. “How does it feel?”

“It hurts, a little, but it’s still good,” she says, breathless. “So good—oh God, Ben.”

He keeps at it until she’s shaking like a leaf, clutching at him for support, and he has to cover her mouth with his free hand when she comes, muffling the sound of her moans with his palm.

When it’s over, he wipes his wet fingers on his pants and looks at her, really looks. She’s still wearing her see-through cami, his own boxers twisted around her knees, hair messy and tangled. Ben picks her up bridal style, carries her to the bed, and drops her there without ceremony.

“Can I touch you?” Rey asks, even as she’s reaching for his belt.

“No,” Ben says, and he catches her wrists, squeezes hard enough to make her pull out of his grasp.

“But I want to make you feel good too,” Rey whispers.

He pushes up her shirt and bows his head to suck on a pretty pink nipple. That shuts her up, at least for now.

He makes Rey come twice more before the night is through, once with his fingers and again with his mouth. Then Ben kisses her goodbye and climbs out of her window as the sun rises, still refusing to think about the gravity of what he’s done.

.

.

He avoids Rey for three solid days, ignoring her texts and calls, and trying (unsuccessfully) to forget the taste of her. His phone buzzes again, and Ben weakens enough to read her message: _i miss you pls don’t shut me out_

He turns off his phone and sleeps away the afternoon.

Ben wakes to find Rey climbing into his bed and straddling his lap. She’s wearing a white bikini top and a pair of tiny denim shorts, and his cock hardens at the sight of her, barely dressed and sitting on him. She must be able to feel it too, and she blushes when he grabs her hips and pulls her against him. The friction is so damn sweet, and he can’t help but buck up against her.

She grabs his shoulders, steadying herself. “I’m not here for that,” Rey says, but he’s certain she’s lying. What else would she want with him?

“Right,” Ben says, as flips her onto her back.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” Rey accuses.

“And?” Ben asks.

She whines his name when he unbuttons her shorts and drags them down her legs, saying, “Touch me. Fuck, please touch me, Ben.”

_Of course_ , he thinks, but he still pulls at the ties holding her bikini bottom on.

“You sure?” Ben asks, half-wishing that she’ll change her mind. He wants Rey to be different, to need more from him than this, but she’s nodding and he’s too weak not to give her what she’s asking for.

Ben strips her out of her swimsuit and thrusts into her with two fingers, more roughly than he had three nights ago. He thinks maybe it hurts her some, because she winces, but Rey still likes it if the way she’s squirming and panting means anything.

“I’ve gotta fuck you. Now,” Ben says, sounding so broken that he barely knows his own voice.

“Please,” Rey whimpers.

She takes off her bikini top and spreads her legs wider, welcoming him. He pushes down his boxers, presses himself to her sex, and shudders at the warmth of her against him.

“Are you on the pill?” Ben asks.

“You’re kidding, right? I couldn’t ask Luke for that,” Rey says. “Have you got a condom?”

No, he doesn’t, because he’s never used any kind of protection before. Ben cusses and slams his fist against the headboard. The last thing he needs is to knock up his fifteen-year-old sort-of-cousin, but it’s hard to remember the risks when she’s lying beneath him, so beautiful and wet and ready.

“I’ll pull out,” he promises. “Okay?”

“All right,” Rey says, and then he’s pushing into her.

She goes rigid, fingernails digging into his back, plump lower lip caught between her teeth. When he thrusts, sliding his full length inside of her, Rey whimpers, “Wait.”

Ben freezes, cock throbbing between her legs. She’s crying a little bit—but she feels so good, her slick heat wrapped around him, like nothing he’s ever felt before—

“Sweetheart,” he says, and she clutches at him. “D’you need me to stop?”

Rey wipes at her flushed face. “No. I want to keep going.”

Ben tries to be careful, but all of his self-control seems to have gone out the window. He can’t stand to have her any way but fast and hard, and after a few rough thrusts Rey starts making high, breathy noises, rocking with him.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop—” she cries, but he can’t wait for her.

Ben pulls out at the last moment and comes on Rey’s belly like he promised.

She isn’t crying anymore, but she’s still trembling, and he sees small smears of pink between her legs and on himself, and Ben feels sick. This isn’t what he wanted for her. She deserves better than _him_.

Still, Rey tugs him down to claim his mouth, and he’s so hungry, so desperate for her, that it’s a sloppy mess of a kiss.

“I love you,” she whispers against his lips. “I love you so much, Ben—”

He kisses her quiet because he doesn’t want to think about the last time he heard those words, only a week ago—how he was on his knees with Mr. Snoke’s hands gripping his hair, pulling so hard it stung—

Ben wrenches away from her, trying to push the memory down, but it’s too late. He feels his stomach turn and his cock start to harden again, the confusing double grip of nausea and desire taking hold of him at once.

“You should go,” he says.

Rey stares at him dumbly, still naked and bleeding on his bed.

Ben grabs a towel from his bathroom, wipes up the mess on her stomach, and throws it in his dirty laundry. Then he gathers up her clothes and tosses them to her.

“You can’t just kick me out,” she says, her voice painfully small.

Maybe if he’s enough of a bastard to her now she won’t want him again.

“Go home, Rey.”

She cries as she dresses, then hurries from his room as quickly as her long legs will carry her.

.

.

Rey doesn’t talk to him all summer, and Ben has never felt more alone. He keeps to his room, reading until his head hurts, listening to music, and texting Mr. Snoke. Sometimes he wishes his mother would confiscate his phone and find all the messages that he stupidly refuses to delete, but she’s too busy with work to much care about who he’s talking to.

He finally has his own car now, so he drives to Mr. Snoke’s house and spends a day in bed being used. He’s taller than Mr. Snoke now, if only by an inch or so, but he still feels small and helpless under his hands. It’s good, and it’s horrible, and when his lover is finished with him Ben goes back home and takes the hottest shower he can stand.

Poe invites him to a party the very next day, and he only goes because he expects that Rey was invited too. Sure enough, he sees her sitting under an oak tree, sipping something from a red plastic cup. She looks so beautiful with her hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing a yellow sundress and golden sandals. Ben drinks his own Natty Light straight from the can and watches her.

When she sees him looking, Rey frowns. Then she turns to the boy next to her and whispers something in his ear. The kid is about her own age, fifteen or sixteen, a skinny basketball player whose mother is the president of the Greenfield High School PTA. Until this moment he’d never registered as remotely important on Ben’s radar, and he can’t recall the boy’s name.

Rey kisses him, aggressive and open-mouthed. So blatantly on display to catch Ben’s attention that he strides across the field, pulls her off of the boy, yanks her to her feet, and says, “I think it’s time you went home.”

He’s making a scene, and their classmates are staring at them, but Ben doesn’t care. Let them talk.

Rey tries to rip her arm away from him, but his grip is too firm for her to escape. He half drags her to his car and says, “Get in.”

“I don’t need a ride,” Rey says. “Finn brought me.”

“I don’t give a shit. Get in the car.”

Rey glares at him, but then she opens the door and settles into the passenger seat.

Ben gets in, ignores his seatbelt, and starts the car. He drives more carefully than usual, though, because Rey is with him.

“You’re such an asshole,” she says, after they’ve been riding in silence for five full minutes. “I’m not your fucking girlfriend. I can kiss whoever I like.”

“You only did that to make me angry,” he says, “so don’t pretend this reaction isn’t exactly what you wanted.”

He reaches over and grasps her thigh, keeping his left hand on the wheel and most of his attention on the road.

Rey squirms, and as soon as caresses her warm, sun-browned skin she asks, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing unless you ask for it,” Ben says.

Rey squeezes her thighs together, catching his hand between them, and says, “I won’t beg. You can’t make me.”

Except he can, and he does. All it takes is saying the right things, telling Rey exactly how he’s going to fuck her, to have her pleading with him to touch her again. So Ben reaches under her dress and rubs her over her underwear, drawing wounded sounds from Rey, so perfect that he could live forever and never forget them.

Yesterday he was used in every way he knows, but that’s nothing compared to how he feels when Rey shivers under his touch and moans his name. He works her hard and fast, fingers moving in confident circles until she goes rigid and shouts a wordless cry. Ben misses their next turn, too distracted to even halt at the stop sign, so he pulls the car over to the side of the road and shuts off the engine. He gets out, strides around to the passenger side, and hauls Rey out of the car. She lets him open the back door and push her face-down against the seat, rucking up her pretty yellow sundress around her hips.

She’s wearing lacy underwear, and Ben shivers at the sight. He rips the fancy panties off of her and stuffs them in his pocket. Unbuckles his belt, pushes his jeans down his hips, and says, “You knew this would happen.”

“I hoped so,” Rey admits, and then he’s lying with his chest flush against her back, his cock pressing between her legs.

She whines when he pushes inside of her, and it must not hurt anymore because her strained noise is one of pleasure. Ben says, “You belong to me, Rey. Nobody else. You understand?”

She’s so much smaller than him. He’s never noticed it more than right now with her slim body trapped beneath him. Ben rolls his hips and thrusts deeper, harder, making her cry out and grab at the upholstered interior of the back seat, scrambling for purchase.

“Say it,” he orders.

“I’m yours,” Rey moans. “Just yours.”

His climax hits him so suddenly that he doesn’t have time to pull out, and he bites her shoulder to muffle his cry as he comes inside of her.

Afterward, he drives her back to their neighborhood. Rey’s hair is falling down from that cute little ponytail, her dress is wrinkled, there’s a mark blooming on her shoulder, and she’s holding her legs together funny—probably to keep his come from dripping down her thighs. She looks freshly fucked, and Ben can only pray that Uncle Luke isn’t home on this particular Saturday night.

When he pulls into her driveway, Rey practically runs from his car, dashing inside before he has a chance to say anything to her.

It doesn’t matter, though. He never has the right words when he needs them anyway.

.

.

School starts back in the middle of August, right before his birthday, and Mr. Snoke gifts him with a key to his house. Ben dutifully pockets it, promising to come by the next night at seven o’clock.

Except when Friday evening rolls around he finds himself on his bedroom floor with Rey straddling his hips.

“My mom’s in the next room,” he says lamely, trying to think up some excuse to get rid of her.

“So?” Rey grinds against him in a way that’s almost too good to bear.

“I’m sorry,” he says, almost stuttering at the delicious feel of her pressed against him. “I have plans.”

“With who?” Rey asks, and suddenly she’s looking at him with open jealousy and suspicion.

“Friends,” Ben says.

“Are you fucking someone else?” she asks.

“No,” he says. “Never.”

Ben swallows down guilt, doing his damnedest to keep his expression sincere while he lies through his teeth.

Rey doesn’t look like she believes him.

His phone vibrates, and Ben grabs it, his heart in his throat.

_It’s 7:15_. _Where are you?_

He types out a quick reply, saying he’s not going to be able to make it tonight after all. He sets his phone aside, but it buzzes three times in quick succession and Rey snatches it up before he can.

“Who’s texting you so much?” she asks.

Ben lunges for his phone, but Rey scrambles away from him, quickly skimming his new messages.

“‘I gave you a key and you’re not even going to use it? That’s not acceptable. If you don’t show up you’ll pay for it,’” she reads, and Ben’s stomach twists as Rey voices Mr. Snoke’s threat. “What the fuck? Who’s this S person?”

“None of your business,” Ben mumbles, and he rips the phone out of her hands. At least she hadn’t scrolled up and gotten a look at yesterday’s messages.

“Why do you have someone’s key?” Rey asks, her voice rising higher, turning almost shrill.

“I don’t have time for this,” Ben says.

Mr. Snoke is going to ‘make him pay’ if he doesn’t show up, and that’s more important than Rey and the house of cards that’s collapsing around him.

Ben grabs his wallet and keys, then hurries into the hall.

Rey goes after him, shouting, “Don’t you run away from me, Ben Solo!”

Mom looks around the kitchen corner and asks, “Is everything all right?”

“Fine.” Ben shoots a pointed look at Rey. “I’m headed out, though.”

“Be back by midnight,” Mom reminds him.

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

Rey follows him outside, and before he can reach his car she shoves him against the brick wall and kisses him. Her mouth is needy and possessive on his, her hands wandering to his belt. It’s barely even dark yet, and anyone passing by could see them, but Ben doesn’t stop her when she cups him through his jeans.

“You belong to me,” Rey whispers, mirroring his words back at him.

He nods to appease her, and himself, but he knows it’s not true. If he’s anybody’s property he’s Mr. Snoke’s.

.

.

Ben spends most of his junior year sneaking around with his adopted cousin and his middle-aged English teacher. He’s been playing this game for so long that the subterfuge barely bothers him anymore, but he hates lying to Rey.

She’s too smart not to know he’s fucking someone else, and she still lets him between her legs.

Tonight, when he refuses to take off his shirt, Rey rips it open, and buttons go flying across the hardwood floor. She breathes in sharply, then traces the bite mark on his shoulder. It’s a vicious thing, a rich purple bruise tinged with blue. Even her gentle touch hurts his tender skin, and he hisses, pulling away.

“Is that from S?” she asks quietly. “You can tell me if it is.”

“I’m not talking about it,” Ben says.

“If you don’t want to discuss your cheating, maybe don’t come back to me with love bites and scratches next time, yeah?” Perhaps she’s trying to sound lofty, but Rey only manages to come off envious and bitter.

“If it mattered that much to you, you’d quit fucking me,” he says.

Rey kisses his forehead, a gesture that would be chaste if not for the way she’s rubbing herself against his lap. “It matters, but I love you too much to stop.”

Ben hates hearing that, but at least with Rey he doesn’t have to fear punishment when he doesn’t say it in return.

He flips her onto her back and kisses her. Ben only ever gets to be on top when he’s with Rey, so he likes to take advantage of the opportunity.

They’re still not using real protection, and considering the number of slip ups they’ve had in the last year, it’s a miracle that she hasn’t gotten pregnant. Ben can’t quite make himself regret this, not when it feels so good to be inside her with nothing between them.

The regret comes in May, when Rey approaches him at his locker and whispers, “I’m late.”

Ben shrugs. “We’ve got five minutes till fourth block starts.”

She looks at him like he’s a complete idiot. “Not late for class. My period is late.”

He freezes, forgets his own locker combination, and asks, “How late?”

“Almost two weeks,” Rey says. “What if I’m pregnant? What are we gonna do?”

“I’ve got a little money saved up,” Ben whispers, because Poe and his circle of friends are walking by. “I don’t know if it’d be enough to…”

“To get rid of it?” Rey asks quietly, staring at the tiled floor beneath her feet. “So that’s what you’d want to do?”

“What I want doesn’t really matter,” Ben says. “It’s your body that’d have to go through it either way.”

“Will you take me to the pharmacy after school?” she asks.

“Of course,” Ben says.

He doesn’t know how he sits through Mr. Bressinger’s final exam, and he doubts he scrapes better than a C anyway. After the bell rings, Rey meets him in the parking lot, and he drives her to Walgreens. He hangs back while she purchases the pregnancy test, but he can see that the pharmacist—a busybody old woman named June—calls her by name and says, “Dear, whatever do you need one of these for?” To make sure that anyone within earshot knows Rey is buying something she shouldn’t. She blushes a furious red, pays for the test, and hurries out of the pharmacy.

A quarter hour later, he’s waiting outside his own bathroom, watching the clock. “It’s been five minutes,” Ben says, too impatient and nervous to keep quiet any longer. “What are the results?”

Rey opens the door and throws her arms around him. “I’m not pregnant!”

Ben picks her up and spins her around, relieved and more than a little giddy. Then he kisses her, a quick peck on the lips that soon grows into something hungrier and more heated. He drops her on the bed and starts undressing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rey asks, laughing.

“Celebrating,” Ben says, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so widely. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Not without a condom,” she says, but her eyes are lingering on the breadth of his shoulders. “Haven’t you learned anything from this?”

Ben finishes stripping, then climbs up on the bed, on top of her. “We’ll use one next time,” he promises.

.

.

_Are you alone?_

Ben ignores the message for fifteen minutes, but then Mr. Snoke texts again: _Answer me._

He hesitates, because his mother is spending the night out of town, and Rey is at a concert with Finn and Poe. He’s as alone as he’s ever like to be, but he knows what’s going to happen if he answers honestly. Ben doesn’t want Mr. Snoke in his house. He’s managed to keep this one space clean of that man’s influence, his bed empty of the terrible things he makes him do.

But it’s been two weeks since he was with Rey. She had a busy summer, always running around with her friends, and now that school has started back she’s only more distracted. He’s lonely and aching in the absence of her touch.

So he answers the message and waits for the doorbell to ring.

He lets Mr. Snoke into his house twenty minutes later. The summer treated him kindly, leaving him lean and tan, and he looks less tired than he did last semester.

They don’t make it to his bedroom. Mr. Snoke pushes him against the living room wall and kisses him. He unbuckles Ben’s belt, pushes his jeans and boxers down around his knees, and takes his cock in hand.

“Fuck,” Ben hisses, closing his eyes, because he doesn’t want to watch, doesn’t want to see himself bucking into this man’s hands, desperate and out of control.

Mr. Snoke says, “That’s good, sweetheart.”

Hearing that pet name reminds him of the first time they ever did this, when he was thirteen and terrified, bent over a desk, with his teacher whispering it in his ear. But it also makes him think of Rey. He couldn’t count how often he’s called her that since he snuck into her room, buzzed off of cheap beer, and fingered her until she came.

He wishes it was Rey touching him now, her hand instead of Mr. Snoke’s pumping him closer to climax.

Then he hears it, the soft noise of her sob. He knows it’s Rey, because how many times has he made her cry over the years? That sound is imprinted on his heart.

Ben makes himself look over Mr. Snoke’s shoulder, and sure enough, there she stands, her pretty face wet with tears, twisted in disgust. Rey looks at him for a long moment, and then she turns around and bolts out of the house. He pushes his teacher away and scrambles to pull up his pants and buckle his belt. Mr. Snoke cusses, but Ben pushes past him, shouting Rey’s name.

He follows her back to her home, and it doesn’t matter that she locked him out because he knows that Uncle Luke’s spare key is hidden under a brick on the porch.

He finds Rey curled up in her bed, crying harder than he’s ever seen her cry before.

“Rey,” he says, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

She cringes away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

Ben holds up his hands, and now he’s sobbing too, crying like he hasn’t done in years. “Rey, please let me explain.”

She sits up and glares at him. “Fine. Talk. Explain why you’d rather be with a man old enough to be your father than with me.”

There’s so much he could say. That it isn’t a matter of choice and never has been. That he loves her back, but the thought of saying those words out loud to anyone besides Mr. Snoke frightens and sickens him. But he can’t bring himself to admit these things, so instead he kisses her. Rey fights it, shoves at his chest and bites his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Are you crazy?” she asks. “I don’t want you to kiss me after what I just saw. What’s wrong with you?”

Ben shrinks away, wanting to run, wanting to hide. He sees it now, what should have been obvious from the beginning: he’s no good for Rey. He’s done nothing but use and dirty her, the way Mr. Snoke used and dirtied him.

.

.

His teacher must send him fifty messages over the weekend, but Ben deletes every one of them.

On Sunday night, he writes a note to his mother and packs a suitcase. He’s almost ready to sneak out the door when his window opens.

Rey climbs in, the way she’s been doing for years. “Where are you going?”

“Not sure yet,” Ben says, too ashamed to meet her eyes. “Somewhere far from here.”

“Are you coming back?” she asks.

“No, sweetheart,” he says, before he can bite back the endearment.

It would be best to go now. If he lingers he might not find the strength to leave at all.

He turns toward the door, but then he feels Rey’s hand on his arm. “You’re not going to kiss me goodbye?” she asks.

Ben stops, suddenly rigid with need. “You want me to?”

“I always want you to kiss me,” she whispers.

Ben drops his luggage, pulls her against him, and bows low enough to press his lips to hers. It’s a soft, sweet, fleeting thing, maybe the most innocent kiss he’s ever given Rey.

When it’s over, she clutches his shirt and says, “You know I’ll love you for the rest of my life, right?”

This would be the moment to say it back, his last chance, but Ben can’t see how the truth would bring her anything but more pain. So instead he lets her go and says, “Thank you, Rey.”

“For what?” she asks.

He doesn’t answer.

Later, on the road, Ben opens the window and lets the summer breeze inside his car. He plays his music too loud and sings along with the radio. In the lull between songs he hears his phone buzzing, demanding attention. He can guess who it is, of course, without even looking, and he knows Mr. Snoke’s messages will only keep coming, dragging him back home if he lets them.

Ben throws his phone out the open window.

He’s still not sure where he’s headed, but it has to be better than staying in Greenfield. He could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything.

He smiles as he crosses the county line, because for the first time since he was a thirteen-year-old child, Ben can see his choices.

.

.


End file.
